One Year
by GracieSnow
Summary: The Ministry of Magic has decided to place a temporary oblivation spell on Draco Malfoy, so that he will be reeducated by living among muggles. Hermione Granger doesn't think much of it, until she runs into him in a bookstore. Suddenly they keep bumping into each other and maybe she's starting to have fun with him… That can't be too bad, right? [EWE] A story in two parts.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimers apply: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters.

* * *

Hermione gasped when she read the headline of The Daily Prophet.

_New Bill Passed: Temporary Oblivation will be used as Criminal Punishment._

She'd heard about the bill in the recent months, but the idea was so horrible she hadn't given it serious thought. To take someone's memories away, completely rewriting their lives… after what she'd been forced to do to her parents, she could never justify that kind of breach of someone's rights. People had a right to their own minds—no one else should have the authority to change them, even in war. Even for punishment. It wasn't as bad as a dementor's kiss, sure, but… it was wrong. Uneasy, she dropped the paper back on the table and moved towards Harry and Ron, who were seated together at the dining room table in The Burrow.

"Did you guys hear about the new punishment?" She asked tentatively.

"Oh yeah, Mum said the ministry pushed it through so they could use it on some of the death eaters," Ron mumbled through chewing the Christmas turkey leftover's.

"But, doesn't it seem unnecessarily cruel?"

Harry pushed his spectacles further up his nose. "It is cruel, Hermione, there's no doubt. But they'll only use it on criminals who endangered society. There isn't a good reeducation punishment currently. We need something between 'sentenced to Azkaban' and 'house arrest,' don't you think?"

He had a point, but she pursed her lips. "I'm not sure, it feels wrong. They're going to take away that person's entire life—it hardly matters that it's temporary."

She shivered, and Harry rested a hand on her shoulder. Even Ron looked up and gave her a sympathetic look.

"We know you've had a tough time with your parents, 'ermione," Ron started, "But that's different than this."

"You shouldn't feel bad for what you had to do," Harry continued, "and I'm sure things will go back to normal with them soon. This punishment will only be used to have these criminals reeducated in the world without the hindrance of their prejudices, only for one year. They'll reverse the Obliviation spell, and they'll have to reconcile all that they learned in that year."

"It's a good thing," he insisted at her furrowed brow.

"I'm just not sure," she whispered, head hanging low.

* * *

Come New Years, and Hermione was hanging out at a party with her friends, enjoying the celebration. A year ago she had been camping with Harry and Ron, and she hadn't been certain they'd make it to the next year. Yet here she was, resilient and strong, after winning the fight. She looked around the room at her friends and smiled with a joy she'd forgotten how to feel.

Neville and Luna were sitting together cozy on a love seat, Seamus and Ron were playing beer pong, and Harry, Ginny and Dean Thomas were debating the latest quidditch theory. Even more were laughing and dancing in the center of the newly refurbished Grimmauld Place.

"Hermione!" Katie Bell came over and sat by her sweetly. "Have you tried the punch yet?"

"Not yet," Hermione shook her head, and Katie handed her one of the two drinks she'd been holding.

"Promise I didn't take a sip from that one!" She giggled, and made a move to put her other drink on the table. Accidentally miscalculating, she spilled it over the ledge, onto the news paper that had been sitting there. They made quick work to remedy the spill, but a small article underneath the headline caught Hermione's attention.

_Draco Malfoy: To be the first recipient of the Temporary Oblivation Punishment. _

Eyes wide, she read on, gripping the paper with both hands.

_Draco Malfoy is the perfect candidate for the controversial new punishment, as he was brainwashed at birth with pureblood ideals by his parents. His young mind should take to the reform easily. Decided in his trial today, he will receive the punishment starting January 15__th__ of this coming year, and will be reformed by living in the muggle community. Witches and Wizards alike are advised to avoid contact with him during this year, as it could create unnecessary stress. _

"Merlin's bleeding heart," she breathed, "Draco Malfoy?"

Katie glanced at the paper speculatively, then nodded. "Oh yeah, I heard about that. Crazy, isn't it? Imagine meeting him on the street! He'd have no idea."

An uneasy pit settled in her stomach and she shook her head at Katie, standing to leave. She didn't really know how to feel about it.

"It's Draco Malfoy," Harry said to her later when she brought it up, "Remember, the bully that made our lives a living hell?"

"It'd be bloody fun to torment him while he's got no memory of us," Ron snickered.

"It's wrong," Hermione asserted. "I don't care about him any more than you lot, but memory magic shouldn't be used so recklessly. We need to be morally righteous, especially in the wake of You-know-Who."

Harry frowned at that, and took the paper from her. "Don't talk about these things like they're so binary, Hermione. It's much more complicated than that. They can't have him just walking around with those beliefs anymore, now can they? I, for one, actually supported the bill."

"It's over and done with, so there's no sense in getting so upset. We don't need another S.P.E.W." Ron added grumpily.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Some of us actually care what the history textbooks will say about us, Ronald. I don't want to leave a legacy of magical creature enslavement and a corrupt punishment system that manipulates people whenever it's convenient for them."

When Ron opened and then promptly shut his mouth, Hermione smirked, hands on hips.

"It's not the Ministry's fault you're mad about what you did to your parents," Harry stirred his coffee, and left the room.

She blinked, his words hitting like a slap.

Ron's jaw dropped, looking between the other room and Hermione. "You know he didn't mean it like that," he choked out, before retreating after Harry.

But it stung, bloody hell, it stung. She could only drop to a chair and look out the window, numb.

* * *

"Okay, talk to you soon Mum," Hermione chirped through the phone, "Love you!"

"Love you too, sweetie," her mother answered before hanging up.

Her relationship with her parents had progressed back to almost normal, and it didn't feel like a struggle to talk anymore. Things were quite nearly natural, with the exception of their desire to remain in Australia after she'd restored their memories.

She entered the bookstore that she'd been waiting outside of while she finished her call, happy to finally be out of the cold February temperatures. This bookstore was quite the treat, with hundreds of used and old editions lining the walls wherever she looked. It was the fourth bookstore she'd visited that day, and if this one didn't have what she was looking for, she had two more to stop by today. She'd been hunting for one particular book, an old muggle fairytale written in the 15 hundreds.

It had been her personal project to hunt old fables, unknown stories, that were of supposed muggle origin. There was a strong possibility, however, that some of these books were either written by people in the magical community or knew about the community. These books could be storing long lost knowledge, or spells, that muggleborn witches and wizards created without knowing about the magical community as well. There was an untapped potential lying in muggle literature, and Hermione Granger was just the witch to sniff it out.

Beginning to scour the walls, she let her fingers dance along the spines of the books. Shakespeare was next on her list, she noted as she passed Midsummer's Night Dream. Then on to poetry or epic poems, like The Odyssey.

The doorbell chimed occasionally as other customers entered and left. Before she knew it, the sun was low in the sky, and she'd pulled out half a dozen books she thought were worth looking in to, but no sign of the book she'd actually been looking for. It'd gone out of print in the 60s, so it would be challenging, but even more so if she didn't stay on task.

A tiny leaflet was poking out of the wall, and she reached for it. Only to suddenly connect with another hand also reaching for it at the same time.

"Oh, sorry!" she jumped back, embarrassed.

"No worry," the low male voice responded. "I didn't see you there..."

But she couldn't hear what he was saying. Goosebumps prickled on her back, rushing to her neck like white hot wildfire. She was frozen, immobile, unable to even breathe. She knew that voice.

Hermione blinked, and flickered over to look at his face.

"Bullocks." She said immediately as she dropped the books she'd been holding.

"I beg your pardon?" Malfoy frowned at her.

He seemed irritated, but he crouched down and started helping her pick up her books. Belatedly, she realized she should pick them up too, and she ducked quickly, knocking into his head as she did.

"Bloody hell," he reached up to touch his bruised forehead. "What is your problem?"

Her eyes bulged in utter shock. If Godric Gryffindor came down and asked her to speak, she didn't think she'd be able to utter a single word.

Malfoy looked a little surprised too. Confusion flashed across his expression, and he looked like he was experiencing some serious déjà vu.

At his expression, Hermione lost her balance and fell flat on her butt, landing on a book. Malfoy stood, brushing off his jacket, and raised an eyebrow. Smoothly recovering from his muddle, he offered her a hand.

When she didn't take it immediately, he huffed. "Are you mute and dumb? Or perhaps, both?"

"I'm—I'm neither." She stuttered lamely, looking up at him from the floor.

"Well you're incurably clumsy, that much is obvious."

He frowned at her, and began to walk away.

"Wait!" She called on her own accord, before she'd had time to think it through. "Don't go."

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I just mean—" her mouth was running away from her rational brain, but all she knew was she was curious about him, about how the punishment had changed him. "Um, would you like to get coffee? Just as, um, an I'm sorry?"

He considered it for longer than was necessary, finally acquiescing with a noncommittal shrug. "Hardly matters to me."

"Um, great," she scrambled up, a few books in tow, a few forgotten. "Let me just get these and we can go."

In the least organized fashion, she paid and stumbled out the store behind him. He walked a full pace ahead of her, but right before entering the coffee shop on their right, he pivoted back and leaned in.

"Do I know you?" His words were terse, face pinched together.

She stuttered out her response, "Um, I don't, um, no."

"You seem very familiar," he regarded her skeptically. "But you must be right. I don't recognize you."

She was in dangerous territory, no doubt. And she was beginning to wonder if spontaneously asking him for coffee was a huge mistake.

They entered the coffee shop and ordered an expresso for him, latte for her. She paid as an apology for earlier, and was struck by how comical it was for her to be buying Malfoy coffee. He'd be furious at the idea of her spending money on him, if he remembered.

They sat across a table from each other awkwardly, unable to think of conversation topics. By the time the coffee came, Hermione has been reduced to nerves, and was grappling for anything at all to say.

"So, what is your name?" He took a sip.

"Oh, um, Hermione. Gran—" She blinked, wondering if she should tell him her actual name, "Grange."

"Hermione Grange?" He mused.

She could slap herself. It would have been better to tell him her full name at this rate. One day, Malfoy would get his memories back, and her lies would be thoroughly embarrassing.

"Ah, yup. That's my name." The brightest witch of their age had been reduced to a conversational idiot.

After a pause, he raised an eyebrow. "I am certainly not offering my name, but now is the moment for you to ask."

"Oh, um." Merlin, help her. "What's your name?"

He smirked. "Draco Foy."

"Very nice."

"And what do you do for work, Miss Hermione Grange that has no questions for once in her life?"

He frowned the second the words left his mouth, and she could see clear as day he didn't know why he'd said that. But it was obvious to her that somewhere in his mind he still had the faintest recollection of her.

"Oh, I'm a government official," she said as smoothly as she could.

"Interesting." He hummed, not sounding particularly interested.

She brushed a curl back behind her ear. "And what do you do?"

"I work for the Governor's campaign. This and that," he waved a hand.

"Interesting," this caught her attention. Malfoy, working in the muggle government? She asked him about a recent bill and they discussed opinions amicably, but soon enough silence fell again.

"And your parents?" She hesitantly probed. Curiosity was taking a hold of her, and she wanted to know what the life the ministry had crafted in his head was like.

He instantly frowned, the mood souring, "They're dead. Killed in a car accident last year that impacted much of my memory as well."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Guilt swelled in her stomach. That was a lot of emotional baggage to put on someone, even for a year.

He took one last sip and then reached for his jacket. "Well, I must be going. Can't say it was a pleasure, but thanks for the coffee."

She blinked at his abruptness, and then nodded at him as he left the shop. She didn't know what exactly had possessed her to go out of her way to get coffee with him, but it hadn't been satisfied with their minimal reaction. It had spurred more questions in her mind, like how was he adjusting, and what else did they make him believe with the spell?

Anger at the ministry flared in her. It was completely wrong of them to do this to someone, even if it was Draco Malfoy, the pureblood prince himself. It was wrong on principal—and the use of memory charms on individuals could be used to justify brainwashing people with differing opinions, which was worrisome.

But, she had other fish to fry, with working on a bill to help recognize centaurs as magical beings and not creatures as well as giving house elves more choice in where they worked. As well as her project to rediscover lost spells by muggleborn witches and wizards. So, she finished off her latte and went back in search of the book.

* * *

As February rolled into March, Hermione found herself occasionally thinking about Draco Malfoy, and their freak encounter. Just briefly on a Sunday afternoon, or randomly when she was organizing her desk on a Wednesday morning. Just fleeting moments, that passed quickly, but always left her feeling off. And there was no one in her life she could talk to it about, which made it harder. Harry and Ron would be mad to find out, Ginny would entertain the idea but then tell Harry, and Luna would… well, offer no practical advice.

So, she simply ignored it, because her hands were tied.

One cold weekend in March, Hermione went out to a pub with Ron and Harry. She'd finally moved into her own flat a few weeks before, so she hadn't seen them in some time.

"How's life Hermione?" Ron greeted her as they entered the bar.

"Another day, another drama," she smiled, "I didn't realize working in the Ministry would be so filled with gossip."

"Then you're about the only one who didn't realize that," Harry said as he hugged her. "Would have thought it'd be obvious!"

"Well," she shrugged, "I had hoped everyone would be more professional. I'm thinking I might apply for university just to get away from this all and climb the ladder faster."

"That's a good idea. This year will give you time to be certain about what you'd like to go into," Harry agreed.

"And you? Will you continue your education?"

He shrugged, And Ron shook his head. "Probably not… A Hogwarts diploma is good enough for any Auror job."

Both Harry and Ron had been given jobs as Aurors straight after the summer, and Harry was excelling. She didn't think it'd be long before he was promoted. They ordered drinks and as the night continued, Hermione felt a pleasant warmth overcome her.

As the night was coming to a close, she noticed Harry nudging Ron with his elbow. "He's got something to tell you, Hermione."

She raised an eyebrow and took another sip of her beer. "Yes Ronald?"

"Well, I uh," they both watched Harry excuse himself, leaving them alone. "I have to talk with you."

She nodded at him again, waiting patiently.

"I know things were kind of leading up to something this summer—"

She shook her head abruptly, "No, Ron, I'm sorry—"

"And I know you didn't really feel the same way as I did—"

"I'm sorry, Ron, but—"

"But it's okay. I met someone else."

She blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah, I… I hope you're not mad."

"Oh, no, Ron." She shook her head, clearing her mind, trying not to appear outwardly relieved. "No, I'm happy for you. Thank you for telling me."

He let out a breath and smiled. "Good, good. I was so worried you'd be upset, if perhaps you still thought…"

He let the sentence trail off and she shook her head. "No, um, I'm sorry. I just didn't feel…"

Ron waved a hand and she nodded. "All's fair, right? No harm done. It's worked out."

"Great," she sipped the last of her drink, and then a thought occurred to her. "Who, may I ask, have you been seeing?"

He looked sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. "Well. It's, um, Pansy Parkison, actually."

"Pansy?" Hermione's eyebrows just about met her hairline, but she remained calm. "Interesting."

"She's not all that bad. I know in school she seemed like an utter prat, but she's actually very kind. In her own way."

Hermione hid a snort ad she pulled on her scarf and wrapped it around her neck. "I'm happy for you, Ron. Good luck. Tell Harry I say goodbye."

He raised his glass as she slipped out the door, eager to be done with the conversation. It was a lot to process, and hearing more details of Ron's fruitful courtship with the newly pardoned pureblood princess was not something she needed. She actually needed… her gaze landed on a McDonalds sitting across the street.

Well, she'd never consider it during the day. But three drinks in, warmth spreading to her fingertips and headache forming at the thought of Pansy, she could really appreciate a milkshake and fries. She quickly crossed the street and pushed through the front door. Ordered herself a large of both, and sat in a tiny booth off to the corner.

Before her order was called, however, a someone in a snow-covered hoodie entered. Hands jammed in pockets, she watched him dust himself off and send a seething glare at the fluorescent menu.

"You're kidding," she whispered, sitting up straight in shock, "Draco Malfoy."

He didn't notice her as he approached the cashier and ordered a burger and fries. He fished around in both pockets for change and counted it out. She couldn't believe what she was seeing—Malfoy, using change. Looking like a regular guy.

Just as he was sitting down to wait for his order, hers was called. She slowly stood up, hoping he wouldn't notice, but his eyes flickered over to meet hers. He raised an eyebrow.

"Hermione Grange?" He said her name slowly, as if he were testing it.

"Um, hi?" She waved. "How are you?"

He gestured around the fast food restaurant. "Clearly, I've had better days."

She laughed. "You don't normally come here at one am?"

"Ah, no. I've been cutting back," he flashed a smirk.

After a beat of silence, she asked on a whim, "Would you like to eat together?"

He shrugged. "Seeing as I have no better plans, sure."

They waited until he got his food, and then sat in the booth tucked away in the corner. After a moment of digging in, he regarded her.

"So, what brings you here?"

She finished her fries before letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I had drinks with some friends. My um ex? If you could call him that—told me he was seeing someone else. Thought I'd be upset."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Typical. So now you're having a sad fast food binge?"

"As if," she snorted, "I couldn't believe he thought I was still hung up on him!"

That earned her a chuckle from him. "I see. Not the type to pine?"

"Not often," but she was eyeing his chicken nuggets wistfully, which he took notice of. Smirking, he moved them closer to her, indicating she could take one.

"Thank you," she grinned between mouthfuls. "And why are you here?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I live in a flat a block away."

"Makes sense. You don't seem like the type to frequent McDonalds."

"Well, when you're on a campaign salary it happens," he looked at her and raised an eyebrow, "and anything tastes good after a beer at one am."

"True, true," she cheered a French fry with his chicken nugget.

He smirked as he shook his head. As they continued talking, and he even laughed at a joke, she began to think more seriously about him. Emboldened by the conversation—which was remarkably better than their first—and with it being so late at night, after they'd both had a drink it seemed, she blurted out what she'd been thinking.

"You're actually pretty nice."

"Why does that surprise you? Do you normally have preconceived notions about strangers?"

She blushed, "No, not at all. I didn't mean—well, I had meant—"

"Relax," he brushed her off, "I'm just messing with you. But yes, you do seem to be more tolerable than last time."

"Good," she tucked a lock behind her ear, suddenly a bit self conscious under the weight of his gaze. He watched her sneak one more nugget before checking his watch and letting out a slow sigh.

"I'd best be going, Grange. I suppose I'll see you around?"

"Yeah… See you soon," she studied the way he wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled on his jacket. Still masculine, still unnecessary regal and proud. She smiled at that, it was good to see Malfoy being Malfoy, even if he didn't even remember he _was_ Malfoy.

* * *

She bumped into him again a week later, at a book signing in a local library. The idea of hiding from him crossed her mind briefly, because how much should she really be involved with him? But the thought of his smile during their last encounter was interesting enough to inspire her to be pleasant. She came up beside him and peeked over.

"Hello Mal…" she cleared her throat, remembering his fake last name, "Hello Draco. How are you?"

He looked surprised to see her, and nodded his head. "Grange. Didn't think you'd be interested in this sort of thing."

"A book signing?" She scoffed, smirking. "Even for a dry thing like this, I'm always interested."

"Hey now," he _tsked_ her, "Don't go criticizing the book before you've read it. It's hardly boring."

"I have read it," she protested, and then relented. "Well, at least the first three chapters. Don't tell me you've already finished it—it came out yesterday!"

"What can I say," he shrugged smugly, "some of us are just fast readers. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll finish it by next year."

She let out an undignified squeak and playfully slapped his arm. "Don't start with me!"

"Feisty, I see. Got to control that temper, Grange. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

She dissolved into giggles, "I cannot believe you. Actually, it makes perfect sense you'd be so—"

"Witty?" He supplied.

"Irritating." She deadpanned.

He just chuckled for a beat, and they stared at each other. Blushing, but spurred on by a mixture of intrigue, rebellion and a spark of desire, she charged forward into the unknown.

"Well, seeing as how we keep bumping into each other… Would you like to grab coffee, after this?"

He paused for a minute, and then nodded.

"I promise it won't be as bad as last time," she said, earning a smirk from him.

"Either way, you're always very…"

"Charming?" She nudged him, grinning.

"Entertaining."

* * *

March flew by, and then suddenly it was April and Hermione couldn't stop herself. She'd gone from occasionally bumping into Malfoy and getting coffee to dinner dates and weekend plans, and a trip to the theatre. As the snow began to melt she felt her life snowballing, one sin after another after another until suddenly her life and Malfoy's was deeply enmeshed. She'd never meant to get this far, but his energy was magnetic, and they had such fun together.

Meeting up for lunch one Saturday afternoon, Malfoy arrived late but flicked two tickets on the table as he took off his jacket. She raised an eyebrow quizzically, giving him a sidelong glance.

"What are these? Is this how you ask girls on dates?"

"No," he smiled wickedly, "this is how I ask you."

She pursed her lips but grabbed them anyways. "Tickets to a theme park? We're not teenagers, in case you hadn't noticed."

He stole a kiss across the table, and snatched them back in the process. "No, but something tells me you hate heights. I'd love to get you on one of those rollercoasters."

Crossing her arms, she frowned. "Are you purposely trying to get me riled? Yes, I don't like heights. I get plenty of thrills from my books."

"Oh, I bet you do," she tried not to blush when she realized what he was insinuating, "but don't worry. I'll hold your hand if you get too scared."

"If I agree to go—and I do mean if—then we'll have to do stereotypical couple things."

She tried to calm her thundering heart as she referred to them as a couple. Glancing up, she saw his dazzling smile.

"Naturally. We'll do the lot. If you don't go home with a bloody fluffy teddy bear, I won't consider it a success."

She tried to hide her pleased smile behind the menu, heart light in her chest.

* * *

In May she tried to reason with herself that next January, when he'd get his memory back, was a long time away and she had plenty of time to break it off, or tell him. She didn't plan on deceiving him long term—she'd just wait until the right time to do anything. More than likely she'd break if off, and once Malfoy got his memory back he'd have probably forgotten the whole affair had ever happened. Or if he remembered, he'd be back to the same old Malfoy from her childhood, and he'd be too disgusted knowing they'd snogged for hours on her couch that he'd never mention it.

It was getting harder to stay flippant about it, she acknowledged as she opened her door to let him in. He kissed her as he stepped through the door, hanging up his spring jacket. She smiled at one noticeable difference between this Malfoy and the one she'd known in school—the weight he'd carried in his shoulders his whole life seemed to have lifted. He moved with an ease only achieved by forgetting the entirety of his childhood.

"How was work today? I made dinner, if you'd like."

"That'd be fantastic, thank you. And work was busy, there's so much to do with the upcoming elections."

She hummed, and moved into the kitchen to get him a plate. He grabbed her by the waist before she could go, and kissed her until she could barely remember what she'd intended on doing.

"I was thinking, how about a late dinner? I have other plans in mind for the moment."

She blushed at his enticing smirk, and let herself be led upstairs, only to pause when she heard a knock at the door.

Whipping her head around, she felt her body freeze at the sound of the visitor's voice.

"Hermione? Why isn't your Floo working, I wanted to see if you'd grab dinner tonight with me?"

Ginny.

Her blood ran cold. Whipping around to Draco, who had a confused look on his face and seemed as if he was in the process of deciphering what 'Floo' referred to, she pushed him up the stairs.

"Just um, hang out here for a minute?"

His brows drew together. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I—" Her heart had started to beat way too fast in her chest. It wasn't as if it would be terrible for them to see each other… But it'd be terrible.

"Just hold on, please," she begged, and without waiting for his response, she sped downstairs, straight to the door and cracked it open an inch.

"Ginny! Hey."

"Hermione?" Ginny looked more than puzzled at her erratic behavior. "What's going on?"

"I um… I've got someone over," she hissed out the door, "and he's muggle. So, no Floo."

"Oh," Ginny's eyes budged, and she quickly waved a hand. "I'm so sorry! Have fun—but you have to fill me in on dinner later this week!"

"Sure, sure! Bye!" She waved her hand quickly as she whispered, shutting the door fast. She could make it up to Ginny later, but explaining it away to Draco would be more trouble.

Briefly, she wondered if it'd be easier to Obliviate him. She was excellent at memory charms but—no. The idea could never tempt her. It was too much power over him, and it wasn't right. She wasn't the perpetrator of these terrible memory crimes; she was just making his muggle life easier to endure for him.

Moving slowly, she eased up the stairs and offered a sheepish smile when she entered the bedroom to see a very ticked off, very attractive, Draco Malfoy.

"Hey," she closed the door softly, "I'm super sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"I didn't know you had friends around," he stated crossly. "Am I that much of an embarrassment that you can't introduce me?"

"No, no!" she grabbed his hands, entwining their fingers. "That's not it at all. I just…"

She released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. It was hard to be with him and yet stay guarded. In an effort of honesty, she told him the truth with a wistful smile.

"I just want to keep what we have to ourselves right now. It's so new and special—can we keep it this way for a bit longer? I promise soon enough you'll know everyone."

Draco seemed to ponder her words, and then nodded slowly. "I understand. But it'll cost you."

"What?"

He smiled wickedly. "Let's see… what are your bargaining chips?"

"Erm… I can…" She blinked densely. "Is it money you want?"

He barked a laugh and playfully threw her on the bed. Crawling on top of her, he looked down and repeated himself. "What do you have to offer for my silence?"

She hummed, getting the gist. Unbuttoning his trousers, she smirked. "I'm sure I can think of something."

* * *

It never failed to amaze Hermione how well Draco fit in with the muggle world. He fit so well it was hard for her to remember he wasn't a muggle, sometimes. He was still the snarky bastard she'd loved fighting in her childhood, but mellowed, with an eye for some of the more tasteful aspects of muggle culture. They loved to buy last minute discount tickets to the theatre, watching Shakespeare or the like. Hamlet was his favorite.

In July, while they sat in a cramped, hot theatre, with a beer in hand, she cuddled up to him and he kissed the top of her head. It was bliss—and she couldn't stop herself from saying exactly what she'd been thinking for the past few weeks.

"I love you."

There it was. As wild as she could imagine. She'd fallen in love with Draco Malfoy.

He smirked back at her, genuine delight sparking. "I know."

Inflamed, she bit back a laugh and slapped him on the leg. "You absolute git!"

The people behind them shushed them, and she turned bright red. Draco just snickered, and pulled her in for a kiss.

"Well?" She prompted.

"Hmm?"

"Don't make me ask," she protested.

"Oh, do I love you?"

Her cheeks were hot, and her heart fluttered when she saw the look in his eyes.

"Of course. Hermione Grange, I'm madly in love with you."

The only thing she wished was that he'd known to say Granger, and she tried to ignore the uncomfortable pang in her chest.

* * *

The late Sunday lie-ins were the best thing about him. She rolled over in bed and kissed his shoulder, sunlight streaming in from the window across his frame. Though he was still sleeping he instinctively turned and tugged her in close to his body, his lips touching the top of her forehead. She sighed in contentment—this was it. This was bliss.

* * *

A/N: Hello, hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you liked it, reviews are always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

It was September when it finally happened. They'd had a miraculous summer of fun, picnics every week and weekend trips to the beach. It had been an August of remarkable warmth, and they'd taken to sleeping in her apartment since his didn't have air conditioning. The sex was the best she'd ever had, and she'd found herself wrapped up in the joy of giving and receiving love. It was the best she'd ever felt, and she didn't want it to ever end.

There was a pit of unease sitting at the base of her stomach that she didn't want to acknowledge—a fear that they'd be discovered. So many moments of double checking their surroundings, buying them matching sunglasses to wear out in public, as if that would disguise them. A sigh of relief each time they made it back to her apartment without seeing anyone from the wizarding world.

And then—in the safety of her own apartment—was where it happened. A knock on the door, which she didn't move to get, hoping who she assumed was the mailman leaving a package would leave without her getting the door. They were sitting, eating a late lunch on a Saturday afternoon, laughing about an episode they'd just watched. Draco had developed an interest in dark humor, and he'd enjoyed showing her different shows that suited his tastes.

But the mailman didn't just leave. Instead, she heard a quick 'alohamora' and the door flew open.

Her life felt like it was moving in slow motion, as she felt her breath leave her body in a whoosh, she turned to look and watched Harry walk in. She watched Draco move towards the door and still in his path, as shock registered on Harry's face. She jumped to attention, inserting herself between them, as if she could do any good at this point.

"What's he doing here?" Harry shouted as Draco's lips curled into a snarl.

"Who is he?"

"Draco, Harry," she put a hand on each of their chests, trying to keep them away from each other, but they kept closing in.

Not taking his eyes off of Draco, Harry grimaced. "Hermione? What the fuck."

"Who is this git Hermione?" Draco kept his eyes trained on Harry, his hand moving towards his pocket reflexively, even though he had no memory of using a wand.

"Draco," she touched his face, begging for his attention, "This is Harry, my friend from school."

"Why is he so… Bloody hell!" He shouted, running a hand through his hair. "I don't fucking remember! But I know you. And you're a fucking annoying git, I do remember that."

She watched him crumple and move towards the couch. She whipped her attention around to Harry, and hissed lowly, "Get out of here. Look what you're doing to him! It hurts him to try and remember."

"Look what I'm doing to him?!" Harry whispered, anger brimming at the edge of his voice, "Look what you're doing! This is fucked up, Hermione. Ginny said you had a muggle…"

He shook his head, anger and betrayal clear on his face. "I can't even understand how you could do this."

"Just leave, please. I'll explain later. But please," she ushered him to the door quickly, and he looked back at her, meeting her eyes.

"Don't bother explaining later. Don't bother coming 'round, actually. I'll keep your secret, fine, but I don't want to see you."

As the door closed, she felt her heart shatter, and all the certainty she'd felt somewhere along with it. Glancing at the couch, she saw Draco slumped over, head between his hands. The memory charm was working, no doubt, but the introduction of his childhood nemesis had triggered a severe reaction. Somewhere, deep down, he remembered and those memories were fighting to resurface. It pained her to watch him struggle, and she tried to whisper sweet reassurances and smooth it over.

She slipped into the kitchen and unlocking a secret cabinet, pulled out some dreamless sleep to pour into a cup of tea for him. The last thing he needed was to remember anything in his dreams.

* * *

Raking leaves with Draco proved to be a more interesting task than Hermione had expected. In her mind, she reasoned that he'd never done this before because his whole life he'd relied on magic or house elves for such mundane tasks. But there was no denying the fact—Draco Malfoy _sucked_ at raking leaves.

They were spending a weekend at her parent's, enjoying the fall season together, and giving him ample time to get to know her parents. It had seemed a simple enough task that Mr. and Mrs. Granger had asked them to do while they ran out to the store, but it was becoming a multi-hour affair.

"Do you need help over there, tough guy?" She smirked at his meager pile, surrounded by rows of stray leaves he'd been—for lack of a better term—petting in place for the past hour.

He narrowed his eyes at her, glancing at her monstrous pile resting next to her.

"Do I look like I need help?"

She made a show of measuring his pile with her hands, and then her own. "Well… You might as well accept defeat. I've won, buddy."

"Buddy? Buddy?" He stalked over to her, poking a finger to her chest and barely containing a snicker. "Just who do you think you're calling buddy? Those sound like fighting words, little girl."

"Well this little girl just whooped your arse," she flicked him on the nose, and he pounced, landing them in her pile. He tickled her until she could barely breathe, and her pile laid in complete disarray.

He stood, brushing himself off and squinting at where her pile used to be. "Looks like you don't have anything to show. I'll be taking the victory, then."

"That's not fair!" She protested, laughing.

"All's fair in love and war," he taunted, giving her a very Draco Malfoy self-satisfied smirk.

* * *

Fall and Winter passed smoother than she expected. With all of her friends giving her a wide berth, she didn't have to worry about anymore run ins. New years was exciting, having someone to kiss while watching the ball drop. It was cozier than the year before, and she wouldn't have it any other way. Time seemed to slip by, and she the uneasy pit in her stomach had all but dissolved with the seasons.

'Do you want to go to the movies tonight?' She texted him at work, mulling over her plans for the night during her lunch break.

'Sure,' he responded quickly, 'We can talk later though. There's some strange meeting I'm being called into. You should see these investors—they look ridiculous with these long black robes.'

'Weird,' she sent back, with a confused emoji.

Long black robes made her think of Hogwarts, and she smiled wistfully. She glanced out her office, located in the headquarters of the Ministry, and watched two other officials walk by. In long black robes.

She blanched.

Picked up her phone, read his last text. Looked at the date.

The blood drained from her face.

She dialed his number and went straight to voice mail.

Oh God.

Dialed again.

Her stomach bottomed out, and she ran for the nearest trash. After wiping her vomit from her lips, she ran to the nearest Floo and traveled as close to Draco's office as she could get. She didn't have time to change out of her long black robes, like she had for every day this year, but it hardly mattered at this point.

Mind racing, she had only one thought: get to him.

* * *

It had been quite easy to forget the importance of the date. Much easier than she'd expected, for someone as highly diligent as herself. After Harry had caught her with him, she'd felt such a relief that she didn't have to keep it a secret anymore. Of course she'd still done all the routine measures she'd done before, to keep them out of sight from the wizarding world. But after Harry had found out and she'd been banished from her friend group, it'd felt like the worst of it was over. The only hurt that was left was the deep pang of loneliness, but even that was forgotten around Draco.

And she was in love. That made it so easy to forget the time. At first, she'd consciously done it. Didn't want to fixate on the end of their relationship, so she'd tried to live in the moment. And then she actually began to live in the moment, and she didn't need to consciously forget the date because she already had.

Love made you do stupid things. Hermione knew that.

But she was practical, you see. No matter what she did, she couldn't do anything that foolish because she was smart, right? Smart people didn't act stupid. And good people didn't do bad things.

But then, there she was, staring down the end of the hallway at Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who'd kissed her silly that morning. Who now looked at her with such a rage her heart broke in half.

He raised his wand and she couldn't hear the spell he shouted, but saw the tendrils of color erupt in her vision. Her body paralyzed, numb to the pain coursing through it, she watched him fall to the ground, as the ministry officials rushed towards his limp body.

She watched them scoop him up, make their way towards her grumbling, and obliviate the entire office. She closed her eyes as tears began to spill over.

She'd done something really, truly, terrible.

* * *

Hermione woke up in a hospital bed, gossips and reporters mixed at her bedside. They must've snuck in, because St. Mungo's didn't normally allow so many visitors, especially when they had no ties to the patient. But upon opening her eyes, she was accosted by questions.

"Why'd you do it, Miss Granger?"

"Was this a type of revenge on young Mr. Malfoy?"

"How long did you toy with Mr. Malfoy?"

"Did you use any magic on him? Love spells, memory spells?"

"Why did you do it?"

She blinked back tears, and tried to cover her face. "Please, please. Leave me alone. I didn't do anything!"

A nurse charged over and did her best to shoo the lot out, but one man remained.

"Miss Granger, should Mr. Malfoy choose to retaliate legally, you will certainly be put in jail. Not only did you act unlawfully and unjustly, he has the right to persecute you for manipulation under a temporary punishment. Because his punishment was so new, there are bound to be a few loopholes, so I suggest you get a good lawyer."

"I didn't mean to do anything," she protested, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. "I didn't manipulate him, I just loved him."

The judge looked her up and down, and shook his head crossly. "Didn't you, though?"

* * *

The nurse patted a washcloth on Hermione's head late in the middle of the night, after she'd woken up in panic and pain.

"You're lucky he didn't kill you," she said soothingly, as if she thought she was being reassuring. "The Ministry Officials who reversed his Obliviation said he'd almost used an unforgivable."

Hermione broke down, and the nurse tutted over her, trying to wipe her tears. "There, there, you're safe now."

She didn't have the energy to tell her that wasn't why she was crying.

* * *

Hermione was in the hospital for two weeks, and none of her friends came. Not a single one. The sting of the wound hurt more than she wanted anyone to know, but as she dressed to leave, she began crying again. She'd scarcely gone more than a day crying at the hospital, and she recognized moving back to apartment probably wouldn't change that.

Packing her meager bag, she moved to leave the room, only to stop short in her track.

Harry was sitting in a chair right outside her room. Expression tight, hands in pockets, leaning towards her. He didn't smile when they made eye contact.

She nervously tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. Glanced at everything in the hospital except him, until finally the moment had stretched long enough to be excruciatingly uncomfortable.

She cleared her throat. "Hi."

He nodded, "Hey."

"I, um…," she was dangerously close to weeping, but desperately wanted to stop being the girl who cried over everything. She wanted to be strong again.

"It's good to see you," she offered finally.

At first, it didn't seem like he would respond, so she nodded and turned on her heel.

"Wait," he groaned, "Please just wait. I came here… to see you."

"And now you've seen me," she chocked out. "If that's all, then—"

He stood abruptly, shaking his head, and gestured to her bag. "Let me help you with that."

"What?" Her voice was timid. She didn't dare hope.

"I'll help you with your bag. You know, with you being in recovery and all."

She could only nod in thanks, not trusting her voice.

* * *

"So, I'd like that explanation now," Harry said finally, sipping the tea she'd made for them at her dining room table. She tried not to think about how that chair was normally Draco's, and how her entire apartment reminded her of him.

"Right. Well…" she let out a breath, "I suppose I'll start at the beginning."

"Were you harboring a crush for him during school? Did you jump at the chance, after his memory had been altered?" The words tumbled from Harry, and she shook her head fiercely.

"I never intended for any of this, I swear. I felt really bad for him about the punishment, but I had no intention of seeking him out. It's funny, actually," she laughed ruefully, "I actually thought this was cruel and unusual. Its obviously too easy for someone to be manipulated, if they forget everything in their past.

"When I first bumped into him, I was just curious about his new life. It felt harmless. And interesting. It seemed like he remembered things without knowing he actually remembered them—once he made fun of me for something I used to do back in school. And then we kept bumping into each other, and we started to get along…"

She sighed, and cupped her mug tighter. "Well, then I supposed I fell in love with him."

"But how?"

"He's much better than you realize."

"Fine, but Hermione, you fell in love with someone who didn't exist. He wasn't himself."

"I was worried about that, too," she fought back, "but he was always himself. Still snarky, still mean, but with a good conscience and a good heart. I'm not here telling you he was perfect—we bickered a lot and had terrible fights—but it was him at the core. And I loved him."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. Still shaking his head, "I just don't understand how you could do something so foolish. You're Hermione Bloody Granger, for god's sake! How could you not see how bad this was?"

"I think I didn't realize at first and then… I didn't want to realize." She bit her lip. "I am so sorry. So sorry for all the pain that I caused to everyone. I feel terrible."

"And you should," Harry said firmly, brow puckered. She nodded tearily into her cup, not expecting anything else. Instead, he reached out and touched her hand.

"But don't be too hard on yourself. The cards were stacked against you."

"What do you mean?" She sniffled grumpily.

"Well, you were always so mature… So intelligent, so nice." He waved a hand, and chuckled. "It was wild competing with you—and I was the chosen one. Even when it came to sacrificing your parent's memory—you did the right thing then too."

She frowned, "Yes, so? And I'm not perfect by any stretch."

"It's about bloody time you messed up," he smirked, "that's what I mean. Everyone fails. You just happened to do it all at once, instead of every now and then, like the rest of us."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" She snarled, but suddenly she felt more like fighting than crying, and the welcome improvement tugged a smile at her lips.

"Yes," Harry stood to leave, and then turned back, arms open. She hugged him, relishing the feeling of having a friend again.

"I suppose I owe you an apology, too." Harry sighed, "I shouldn't have kept everyone from seeing you."

"You did that?" She thought everyone had decided to banish her unanimously.

He had the decency to look embarrassed, "I was mad. But it wasn't my place. Ron's been worried."

"Ronald?" Her eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah. He cares too, you know. And he's got his own Slytherin, of course."

She couldn't fake a smile quick enough.

"Oh, Hermione," Harry hugged her once again, "I'm sorry. Truly—I think you should be apologizing to him. Talking to him. Seeing if you can sort this out."

She whimpered as she swiped a tear from her cheek. "But I'm a mess. I'm a weepy, confused, angry mess. I don't think I deserve to see him, and he definitely doesn't need to see the disastrous state that I'm in."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not so certain. Perhaps you don't deserve to see him, but he has a right to hear if from you. The whole thing."

She nodded as he closed the door and considered the truth behind his words.

* * *

It took her a full month from Draco's Obliviation reversal for Hermione to seek him out. Trying to see him meant so many things—confronting what she'd done, and what had been done to her. Because, of course, Draco lived at Malfoy Manor. The place was a living nightmare for her, a reminder of the torture she'd endured at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, his aunt.

But the desire to see him was stronger than her resistance to the location.

She came knocking one Saturday afternoon, when the sun hit the doorway in golden rays. It almost looked magical.

A house elf opened the door, only to stare at her with wide eyes, completely still.

Hermione waved politely. "Hello. Um, I was wondering if Draco was around?"

"I'm not sure Young Mister Malfoy be wanting to see you, Miss Granger. I know it being rude to say," the house elf looked up at her nervously.

She nodded politely, and looked uncertainly back at the gate, wondering if she should leave. "Well, I suppose I'll just come another time. Give Draco my regards."

The house elf betrayed nothing other than shock, but she heard someone speak from another room in the house.

"That's Malfoy to you."

She felt her stomach drop and pulse quicken. It was him. She stole a glance back into the foyer of the house, where he had appeared.

He regarded her stony faced, and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here, Granger? Or should I say Grange?"

She tucked a curl behind her ear, bobbing her head. "Well, um. Whichever you prefer."

He snorted, and turned on his heel. She couldn't tell if that was an invitation or dismissal, but honestly the whole thing had gone much better than she'd anticipated.

The house elf chirped for her attention. "Miss Granger."

She hummed distractedly as she moved to leave. "Yes?"

"Young Mister Malfoy be waiting for you."

"Oh? Oh," she turned right back around and marched into the house, to see Draco sitting in a chair in the drawing room. She felt blood drain from her face, as she recognized the room from where her torture had taken place. No doubt he had picked this room on purpose—he most certainly wanted to put her through emotional turmoil since she was doing that to him by showing up here. She allowed it, and entered the room, head held high and spine straight. After the weeks she spent to recollect herself, she had regained her dignity.

"Hi, Malfoy."

He nodded.

A house elf appeared with tea, and she graciously accepted. Draco abstained, instead watching her with scrutiny.

"I've come here to apologize," she said bluntly. "Because you deserve an apology."

After a long beat, where his grey eyes stared into her with piercing intensity, he gestured for her to begin.

She let out a breath. "I am so incredibly sorry. Words will never convey how terrible I feel about what happened. I never meant to hurt you. I can never make it up to you for all of the pain and anguish I've caused you. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I just wanted you to know I am so, so sorry."

She stilled her cup, which had been shaking from the tremors in her body, trying to remain poised and in control while spilling her heart to him.

He asked her one serious, solemn question. "Do you regret it?"

She teetered. "I regret the pain it put you through, and the emotional trauma."

"Do you regret our relationship?"

She gave in, staring into her tea, wishing it would swallow her up. "No. No… As selfish and completely terrible of me… I don't regret it."

She heard him make a noise, and she desperately sought his gaze. "I'm so sorry. I just cannot regret it—our relationship—was the best thing to ever happen to me. I shall never forget it for as long as I live. And I'm so sorry," she couldn't stop herself, and a tear slipped out on accident, "But I love you. And I don't expect anything from you, this conversation is more closure than you needed to give me."

"And what if I want it to be Obliviated from your mind?" His sneered, his expression biting.

She sucked in a deep breath. Tried to think of something to say. The part of her that felt so sorry and wanted to make things right was ready to give in—ready to promise anything. Perhaps he was owed this necessary evil; an eye for an eye, if you will.

But the part of her that had a spine, that stood up for herself felt differently. What had been done to his memory was a terrible wrong but taking away her memory was just an act of revenge. It wouldn't make anything right; it wouldn't solve anything. It would just lock away the pain to another place.

"Well?" He prompted.

She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, but you do not have a right to my mind. I will not get Obliviated."

And she felt good. It felt right to fight for herself.

"I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon to get the entire year Obliviated from my mind."

She jerked her gaze to his. He met her eyes gravely.

She took a breath. Let it out. Words couldn't convey what she felt.

"I see," was all she could muster up.

"And?" He pushed, and she sighed softly.

"Well. Your memory if not my property, either. You may do as you please."

"It doesn't bother you?" It was like he was looking for a fight, and she furrowed her brow.

"It's not up to me," she protested.

"So that's it then? You got what you wanted—all those bloody memories—and it doesn't matter what happens to me. You get to keep them and I was just a tool for you to make them. Fulfilled your fantasy?"

She snapped. "_Of course_ I fucking care. But it'd not my bloody decision. What do you want me to do, scream and cry and throw myself at you? Beg you not to? I won't hold you to keeping them if it just causes you to be so ill—which it clearly does, given the way you've been leaning away from me this entire time. And no—I never thought of you as a tool or whatever the fuck you meant."

He stood quickly, grabbing her by the arm so she was standing next to him. Gripping her shoulder, he glared at her.

"Why'd you do it, Granger?!"

"I never meant to!" She shouted, out of breath and trying to keep her wild hair from flying all over the place. "It just happened naturally!"

"And are you sorry?"

"No!" She was screaming now, matching his anger, watching his temper flare.

Snatching something out of his pocket, he held it up to her face. She couldn't understand what she was looking at immediately, until slowly, a diamond ring came into focus.

"I bought this for you! Do you understand? I was going to bloody propose to you, in the damned bookstore we met in!"

She looked at him, tormented. Her heart shattered at his pained expression.

"How could you let them do it?!"

She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She spoke softly, hesitantly, "Do what?"

"Give me my memory back," He broke down, enveloping her in a hug, warm and familiar and necessary. Home.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding tight. "Oh, Draco."

He took in a ragged breath, "I can't bear being here. The stress, the pain. Do you understand?"

"I am so sorry," she whimpered into his shoulder.

"I had to remember what I'd done to everyone, to you, to this world. Voldemort. The lot of it. It was better to have not known."

She shook her head softly. "No. You had to know. Even though I didn't want to think about it, you had a right to know all of your previous memories. They make you you. They are important."

His expression weighted, he said, "When they obliviated me—it was like they'd killed Draco Malfoy. I was whomever I wanted to be as Draco Foy. And then they killed him too. Now I'm neither and both at the same time."

She bit her lip, and touched his cheek. "Oh Draco. Oh Merlin, I cannot fathom. But I will tell you for certain—there is something in you that has always been the same. Then, before, and now. And that is whom I love."

"Hermione," he pressed his forehead against hers. "I was so mad. So angry with you, at first. That you'd done this—that you'd manipulated me. And then… I was angry you'd let it end. I was so happy."

She wiped a tear from his cheek, and he let out a strained laugh.

"I'm neither the Draco Malfoy from childhood, nor Draco Foy from the past year."

She nodded, and kissed his cheek. "I know."

"If we do this—if we can, if it feels right—you need to know there will be tough days."

"I know."

"And I might be terribly angry."

"You'd have reason to," she swallowed.

"But you have plenty of reasons to be angry with me," he reminded her, and she smiled softly.

"Yes, I definitely do."

"So, in a way, we're even."

She laughed at his perspective. "That's not normal."

He raised an eyebrow. "But it's who we are."

She touched his cheek, warmth spreading as she saw the look in his eyes. Forgiveness.

She could work with that.

"Do you think you can live with that?" He asked, and she answered.

Taking the ring from his hand, she slipped it on to her finger.

"Yes, I think I can."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! I had a wonderful time writing this, leave a review if you enjoyed reading it! I have a few other Dramione stories similar to this, so check out my profile and I'll be back soon with more. Well wishes in the new year (decade!)


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